


Kiss and Tell

by Anarfea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bisexual Molly Hooper, Bisexual Sherlock Holmes, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:04:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarfea/pseuds/Anarfea
Summary: Janine is coming to London to visit, and Molly thinks it’s time she and Sherlock discussed what she means to them and their relationship. But the past Molly’s worried about isn’t Sherlock’s. It’s hers….





	Kiss and Tell

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Smutfest2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Smutfest2017) collection. 



“Sherlock, I think we need to talk about Janine.”

“What? Why?” He looked up from his microscope. “Surely you know everything she told the tabloids was nonsense.”

Molly did know. Sherlock was an attentive and considerate lover, but the sex wasn’t terribly adventurous and it certainly didn’t happen seven times a night. She suspected that it was just never going to be a priority for him, especially when a case was on. And that was fine, because everything else in their relationship was going better than she would have imagined on those occasions when she’d dared imagine a relationship with Sherlock. She had a yellow velvet chair and a drawer in Sherlock’s dresser at 221b, and she stayed over two or three times a week. Things were going well, had been for months, and she didn’t want to screw them up.

“She’s coming into London next week and I’m going to meet her for lunch and Christmas shopping.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “What for?”

“We’re friends, Sherlock!” Molly hated the way her voice got squeaky whenever she got defensive.

“Since when?”

“Since you were in hospital. I ran into her when she came to see you. We, uh, bonded over what an arse you are.”

He frowned. “Well, I still don’t see what there is to discuss. I don’t really care who you’re friends with, and I’ve already assured you there’s no reason for you to be jealous. Our whole relationship was a sham. We never actually had sex. I kept telling her I wanted to wait for marriage, which in retrospect I don’t think she believed. Actually, I think Magnussen told her to date me and the relationship was as much a sham on her end as mine.”

Molly chewed her lip. “It was more that I was afraid…. I thought _you_ might be jealous.”

“Of what? You having someone to vent to? I can vent to John, or to my skull if John isn’t available.”

“Janine and I were…. Sherlock, she was more to me than that.”

Sherlock did the blinking thing, brain going offline momentarily. “Just to clarify. You’re saying that you and Janine were… girlfriends?”

Molly blushed. “Not exactly. It was--” oh God her voice was getting high again “--more of a friends with benefits kind of deal.”

“‘Benefits.’ You mean sex.”

She dropped her eyes. “Yeah. I mean…. Yes. We had sex.”

“How many times?”

“Sherlock! You can’t ask me that. We weren’t together, then. It’s none of your business.”

He rolled his eyes. “Molly, you must know by now I’m hardly the possessive type. I’m well aware that you enjoy sex and that you had an active sex life before we were together, and I’m not trying to shame you for any of your past activities. That would be counter-productive, as I directly benefit from your experience. I’m just… curious. I didn’t… I didn’t even realize you were bisexual.”

She smiled. “Does it bother you? That you missed it?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I assumed you knew, I guess. You knew so many other things you hadn’t a right to.”

He snorted. “Always something.” He paused. “Molly, you… you do know that I am also bisexual.”

She laughed aloud, then realized that was probably not the kindest response, and softened. “Sherlock, your feelings for John are kind of… obvious.”

He winced. “You said ‘are.’”

Molly shifted from one foot to the other. “Well. Don’t you, I mean…. It’s not easy, falling out of love with someone. I would know.”

“Molly….” he took her hand. “I care for you. Deeply. I always have, I didn’t know how much until--”

“I know.” She didn’t want to discuss that terrible phone call again. It was too painful.

“You’re right that I also…. But John is straight. He never felt that way about me, and I… I’m trying not to feel that way about him. Which is much easier now that you and I are--”

“Having sex?” she giggled.

“I was going to say ‘together.’”

She smiled. “I know, I just….” It was hard, talking about John. It hurt, even though she knew Sherlock’s feelings for her were sincere. There had been tears in his eyes when he’d told her about his sister, about what she’d made him do.

Sherlock pushed his chair back from the kitchen table and stood up. “Molly….” he opened his arms.

She dove into them, relaxing as his arms closed around her and he kissed the top of her forehead.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded.

He brushed her hair away from her ear. “Do you… or did you… have feelings for Janine?”

She blinked. “No. I mean, that sounds terrible, like I… of course I _like_ her. She’s great. We’re friends. But we weren’t…. It wasn’t like that.”

“Good.” He paused. “That’s probably bad, isn’t it? That I’m glad you don’t feel that way about her when I--”

“It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

She kissed his nose. “It’s all fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

Molly had a set of pajamas with cats in santa hats on them in the drawer Sherlock had given her, but since she’d started staying at Baker St regularly she preferred stealing Sherlock’s t-shirts. The fact that John had mentioned Janine had been in Sherlock’s shirt one morning when he’d come over might have had something to do with that, but she’d never admit it. She folded back the duvet and climbed into bed, staring out the window. Sherlock had hung fairy lights around it, which blinked red and green in the dark. She hoped it would snow on their first Christmas together.

Sherlock climbed into bed soon after, and pulled her into his arms. He smelled of cardamom-scented body wash and toothpaste. He pressed his lips to hers, and Molly let herself get lost in the warmth and wetness of them. His tongue pressed between her teeth, and his leg between her thighs. She hadn’t put on any knickers, and the heat of him was making her wet.

Sherlock slid his hand down the length of her side, pausing at her hip before walking his fingers down the length of her bone and nestling them in her pubic hair. He brushed the tips of two of them over her clit. “Did you do this with Janine?” he asked.

“Sherlock! I already said, you can’t ask that!”

“You said I couldn’t ask how many times you had sex with her.”

“It’s basically the same, though. I mean, you shouldn’t kiss and tell. It’s rude.”

“Janine did.”

“I thought you said you didn’t actually do any of the things she told the tabloids.”

“We didn’t, but my point stands. I don’t think Janine is the type to be concerned about sexual privacy.”

“Still….”

“Fine. Tell me more generally, then.” He kissed the side of her neck and whispered into her ear. “What is it you like about sex with women. What makes it different than sex with men.”

Her cheeks heated in the dark. “Well… for starters, women are very soft. You don’t have very much of a beard--”

“Hey!”

“But there’s still a hint of stubble. A little of that can be nice, though I’m not a huge fan of the Shezza scruff--”

“Shezza scruff?”

“But you’re not completely smooth except right after a shave. Women are soft. And sometimes….” she kissed him on the lips and pulled away again, “sometimes they taste like chapstick and that’s nice, and sometimes they get lipstick on you and that’s messy but in a good way. It’s hot.”

“Janine wears lipstick.”

“She does.”

“I did kiss her, you know. That much was real. She’s a good kisser.”

“You are so persistent,” she scolded.

“I always get what I want.”

“Fine. Yes, Janine was a good kisser. Very soft lips, not much tongue, slow.”

“Was she good at other things?”

Molly grinned in the dark. “Yes.”

Sherlock walked two fingers down from Molly’s navel between her thighs and slipped them inside. “Like this?”

“Mmmm. Yes. But she has such delicate, small hands.”

Sherlock tucked his fingers up behind her pubic bone and curled them forward. “Mine are rather big.”

“They’re enormous. And I love them. But there’s something nice about women’s hands. Janine could fit her whole hand inside me.”

Sherlock made a low, appreciative sound in his throat.

“I wouldn’t dare try that with you.”

“I’d be very gentle.” He stirred his fingers inside her. “Use lots of lube.”

“Sorry. They’re just… I don’t think any amount of lube would make hands that big comfortable.”

“Tell me about Janine’s hand inside you.”

“Well…. Fisting isn’t really like anything else. I felt sooo full.”

Sherlock added another finger.

Molly gasped a little. “Yes. But there’s something else, a sort of… this is going to sound silly but--”

He began kissing his way down her belly.

“A sense of accomplishment. When she got her whole hand in, I felt proud.”

“Did it hurt?” he asked, then nipped at her side.

Molly yelped. “A little. But it was so good I didn’t care.”

Sherlock twisted his fingers, like turning a key in a lock, and Molly moaned, grabbing at his hair. He smiled against her stomach, then moved his head down between her legs.

If there was one thing Molly appreciated about sex with Sherlock, it was his dedication to giving head. He parted her lips with his free hand, still turning his fingers inside her, and flattened his tongue against her clit. Molly sighed, letting her thighs fall open, as Sherlock flicked his tongue up and down and over and around, gently thrusting his fingers in the same rhythm. Just when it was starting to get good, he stopped, lifting his head.

“Did Janine do this?” he husked.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you! And no. I know that people think that’s the only thing women do together. Well, and scissoring, which I don’t really like, but....”

Sherlock climbed up her body until they were face to face. “Show me.”

“Jesus, Sherlock.”

“I’m serious.”

“Well I can’t, exactly. That’s kind of the point. I mean, if you were a woman, and we were lying the way we’re lying right now, I’d….”

“You’d what?” He pitched his voice low.

“I’d finger you.”

“So finger me.”

“You haven’t got--”

“Molly. Use your imagination.”

She flushed. She’d never done anything like that before with Sherlock. And it did sound insanely hot.

“Do you have--”

He opened the bedside drawer.

“Oh. Do you….”

“Sometimes.”

Molly tried to imagine Sherlock lying on his back, stretching himself with his long, white fingers. She bit her lip.

Sherlock handed her the pump bottle of lubricant.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

“That’s the idea.”

She smiled, then squirted the lube into her hand. It was cold. She rubbed her fingers together a bit. Sherlock pulled her into a kiss, then rolled onto his back. He lifted his knees up, parting them.

Molly pressed a lubed finger against his entrance.

He inhaled sharply, then exhaled slowly as she pushed in.

“Oh,” Molly exclaimed as his sphincter expanded, then closed tight around her. He was tight and hot inside. It didn’t feel like fingering a woman at all, but it was exhilarating, knowing that a part of her was inside him, that he was allowing this, accepting her. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“You’re fingers are quite a bit smaller than my own.”

“Right. Shall I add another?”

“Please.”

 _That_ was interesting. Molly hadn’t heard Sherlock say ‘please’ since (no, she wasn’t thinking about that, now), but in this context, it was hot. She pumped more lube into her hand, then pushed in another finger, stopping at the second knuckle.

Sherlock’s breath quickened. “More.”

“Ok. But, be patient.” She slicked her fingers and pressed them deeper into Sherlock. He arched up off the bed, a whimper escaping his lips.

“Did that hurt?” she asked.

“No. No, it’s…. Do that again.”

Molly tried again, this time curling up. She’d technically never done this before, but she knew where the prostate was.

“Fuck,” hissed Sherlock.

Molly thrust her fingers. “That’s the idea.”

He chuckled, then cursed again when she pushed his prostate again, making slow, careful circles. “Molly. Molly if you want me to last don’t--”

She crooked her fingers, making a ‘come hither’ gesture.

Sherlock made a choked, strangled sound.

Molly eased up and climbed alongside him, straddling his thigh. She ground down into his leg while pushing her fingers forward again.

Sherlock curled up off the bed and cried out, grabbing tight on Molly’s hips. That was better, now that she had some leverage.

Molly clenched Sherlock’s leg between hers and rocked against him, timing the thrusts of her hips with the thrusts of her fingers.

Sherlock walked his fingers across her arsecheak and pressed them into her from behind.

Molly gasped and pushed back onto them, alternating between grinding forward into his leg and back onto his fingers, moving her own fingers inside him.

Sherlock began to thrust, matching her rhythm, and the two of them moved together in synchrony, fucking and bucking and pushing back against the other.

“Can you come from this?” Molly asked.

Sherlock tilted his pelvis, sliding his cock against Molly’s belly.

“I think so?” He was breathless.

Molly stroked his prostate firmly, rubbing until she felt him clench around her fingers.

“Molly,” he breathed. “Molly.” His cock twitched against her, and then pulsed, sending strands of sticky come over her stomach.

Molly pressed her clit hard into Sherlock’s thigh, determined to grasp the orgasm just outside her reach. Sherlock pushed his fingers deeper inside her and held her hip tight, letting her resist him, struggle for it, and then it was there, a tightening in the backs of her thighs, a curling of toes, tension and heat coiling and releasing until she came with a cry.

It was only after she’d come that she realized she still had her fingers inside Sherlock.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, extracting them slowly and lying alongside him. “That can’t have been pleasant for you.”

“It was… interesting.”

“Interesting how.” Molly studied his face in the flickering red-green light.

“It was uncomfortable. But… good.”

“Sherlock, are you maybe a bit of a masochist?”

He shrugged. “I enjoy strong sensations.”

“Do you, now?” Molly paused, reassessing her thoughts about what her sex life with Sherlock could be like.

“Mmmm.”

“That’s… noted.”

“What, are you going to whip me now?” There was a hint of interest in his voice beneath the teasing.

“I might do.”

“Did you do _that_ with Janine?”

“No.”

“Interesting. She’s kinky, you know.”

“I didn’t, though I’m curious how you do.”

“She was intrigued by my handcuffs.”

“Why didn’t you ever have sex with her?” asked Molly. “She’s fit.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t find her attractive. I just… there was only so far I was willing to take the fake-relationship thing. It would have been cruel, to lead her on that way.”

“Janine’s a big girl, I doubt she would have been crushed. You know--” and God this was a stupid idea, she really shouldn’t say it, but the words were already tumbling out before she could stop herself, “she said she wished that you two had had sex at least once.”

“She conveyed those sentiments.”

“I just thought. Well. I mean. Janine and I have already…. And if you find her attractive.”

“Molly Hooper, are you proposing a threesome?”

She chewed her lip, and then stopped because fuck it, she’d just finger-fucked Sherlock and she was done with being shy, “Yes, yes, I am. Are you interested?”

He paused. “If it’s what you want, and if you think Janine would be amenable--and I warn you, she might not be, we didn’t part on the best of terms--then I am.”

“Good.” Molly flushed. “I’ll ask her, then.” She had little doubt Janine would say ‘yes.’ And if she did, then… what a memorable Christmas it was going to be.


End file.
